Mirror Image
by Jennaya
Summary: "John Gage, you are under arrest for the murder of Roy Desoto." Chocolate eyes stared back, face devoid of emotion, Detective Alex Hayes knew he was looking at a stone cold killer. The man didn't even have the decency to appear upset over the death of his partner of five years. Hayes was plenty affected for both men; he was with Desoto as he drew his last breath.
1. Chapter 1

**Mirror Image**

* * *

DISCLAIMER:

All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Mark VII Productions and Universal Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at an Emergency story. I want to thank Waikiki23 for her encouragement to write this story. And my gratitude to my beta and gracious friend, HotchRocks, for her hard work in ensuring that my English is readable. I should note that I am not a medical person, nor do I work in the fire fighter profession. Any and all remaining errors are all mine.

* * *

**Present Time:**

"John Gage, you are under arrest for the murder of Roy Desoto." Chocolate eyes stared back, face devoid of emotion, Detective Alex Hayes knew he was looking at a stone cold killer. The man didn't even have the decency to appear upset over the death of his partner of five years. Hayes was plenty affected for both men; he was with Desoto as he drew his last breath.

* * *

**An hour and half prior:**

Detective Hayes and his partner, Detective Clay Sawyer, responded to the shooting Los Angeles Police Department dispatch had called them out four minutes prior, making good time as they were already in the area working on a homicide case. Hayes pulled the sedan to the side of the street where he had a solid view of the paramedics working on the shooting victim. With any luck, this wouldn't turn into a homicide case, he hoped. Hayes, the senior detective, had three years in homicide and Sawyer was a rookie detective with only six months in the grade. Between the men, they had nearly fourteen years with the LAPD.

Both officers sat for thirty seconds observing the scene before exiting their light gray unmarked car. Hayes exited the driver's side of the car, slipping the keys into his coat pocket, closing the door before walking to the front of the car waiting for his partner to join him. Next they took the few footfalls over to the scene careful to not step on any evidence. Instantly they recognized something was different about this run as a third man ordered two Los Angeles City paramedics treating the victim to inject medications into the IV. Biophone was opened, but the orders didn't come through it. The victim had multiple gunshot wounds. Hayes had seen enough victims to recognize this one wasn't going to make it. His cutoff light blue shirt tossed to the side, with the sun beaming off the LA County Fire Department badge, put a lump in the detective's throat. Name tag across from the badge read R Desoto. The Fire Department might not be the police, and there was a sibling rivalry, all in good fun. But they were just like him, working to protect the citizens of the Los Angeles. This would be personal for the detectives, a brother in blue had been shot. The case would be worked with the same vigor had the man been a police officer.

A non-rebreather oxygen mask was placed over the man's mouth and nose, with elastic holding it in place behind his head. An IV snaked down his left arm, and two large pressure bandages secured to his chest. EKG leads scattered across his chest led to a scope with what appeared to be a slow but steady heart rate. Hayes couldn't read the squiggly lines, but was sure the paramedics understood what they indicated. A second IV line was established by the shorter of the two paramedics. The third man sat back on his heels, clearly showing the bald spot on the back of his head as he evaluated his patient.

"What do we have fellas," Hayes asked as he stood near the victim's feet.

"Triple gunshot wounds to the chest, but he's going to be just fine," Warner, the older paramedic said patting Desoto on the shoulder. He looked up giving the detective a slight nod no; his eyes indicating the man wouldn't even make it to the hospital alive. "We're fortunate to have Doctor Carlyle riding with us today, and can provide more than the standard level of care."

"Do you mind if I ask him a couple of questions," the determined detective asked moving to kneel beside the fallen fireman.

"Sure, we're just waiting for the ambulance," Rogers, the shorter paramedic said stepping aside so the officer could get closer to the victim. "I'll find out where it is."

"I'm Detective Hayes, can you tell me who shot you?" Serious brown eyes looked into barely conscious hazy blue eyes.

"M…my partner…nev…never thought he'd turrrrrn on me," Desoto struggled to get out. His breathing labored, and color more ashen with each passing moment, the heart rate on the screen slowing. Warner turned up the oxygen to one hundred percent.

"Tell Jooo I lovvve herr," his words became more breathy and difficult to get out.

"She'll meet you at the hospital and you'll be able to tell her yourself," Warner said with a supportive hand on Desoto's shoulder.

"What's your partner's name?" Acid rose in the back of Hayes's throat. Partners turning on each other was never good. It happened every so often even in the police department, usually over something personal.

"Jonn Gagggg…" He quit breathing with his head listing to the left slightly. The squiggly lines on the monitor changed to a flat line.

Warner grabbed the paddles as Carlyle pushed a button on the device and placed gel on the paddles. The numbers climbed upward, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred. "Go!" The life giving instruments placed on the patient's chest and activated making the man arch up off the pavement. "Drop two amps bi-carb," the doctor ordered.

"Bi-carb in. The ambulance was in an accident and another won't arrive for at least twenty-five minutes." Rogers responded as he pushed the button to make the paddles charge as the flat line continued across the screen. The dance between life and the claws of death continued for a solid twenty minutes, medications administered, chest compressions, and electric shocks given until there was nothing left to do.

Carlyle let out a deep breath shaking his head. Everyone knew the patient wasn't going to make it, but it seemed so futile to lose a life like this, especially one of the good guys. Even if they'd been in a fully equipped emergency room, the man didn't stand a chance, but the doctor was a sore loser when death ripped a life away. Looking at his watch, "Time of death 13:13."

All three men appeared defeated with slumped shoulders and lowered heads. In the distance, the wail of the ambulance siren could be heard with at least two minutes away for the arrival.

"Some days," Warner shook his head.

"You did your best," Hayes placed a hand on the paramedic's shoulder offering support. "Is there anything you can tell me that might help?"

Warner picked up something laying under the victims destroyed blue shirt, handing it to the detective. "He had this in his hand when we arrived."

Turning the thin plastic piece over revealing the inscription, Hayes questioned the paramedic. "J Gage." The name badge was identical to the one on Desoto's shirt with fabric attached still to the plastic as if it'd been ripped from a similar type shirt.

"The County's premier paramedic team, Roy Desoto and John Gage out of Carson. Desoto helped get the paramedic program pushed through the system to be created. Never had a chance to meet him before today," Warner shook his head in disgust. "What a way to…"

"The ladies on the corner flagged us down; we were returning from a nothing run. Got to him within two minutes of the shooting," Carlyle offered indicating up the street. Two Hispanic women sat on the side of the street huddled together, one fingered a rosary, while the other's mouth was moving in what appeared to be silent prayers.

"Thanks," Hayes said as he and his partner made their way to the witnesses introducing themselves. "Ladies, can you tell us what you saw."

"He's dead isn't he?" A plump woman in her forties wearing a flowered blue dress asked with trembling hands.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid he is," Sawyer answered, watching their reactions. Were they witnesses, or did they have anything to do with the murder? His mind said anyone at the scene presenting as a witness could be an accomplice or perpetrator.

"Dios mío no…," the women whimpered and clasped hands.

"May I get your names please?"

"Helena Gonzales and this is my sister-in-law, Isadora," the lady who asked about the fallen fireman answered. Her sister-in-law, who had been fingering the rosary, nodded her head whispering, "sí."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Hayes asked as he knelt at the same height as his witnesses sat.

After a moment of conversing in Spanish, it was decided that Helena would speak because her English was better, and only to the dark haired detective because he didn't look down on them. Hayes didn't let the ladies know he understood their conversation, and would instruct his partner on why their decision later.

"We were walking to the store, Tito's grocery, they have a nice sell on melons right now. That Tito always has good produce at a reasonable price," Helena started.

"My wife would agree with you," Hayes said with an understanding nod. Anytime he could connect personally with a witness made the interview process go smoother.

Helena smiled and opened up more. "Before we got to the corner we heard a noise like… like… a car backfire, but not the same. It happened all quick tres times." She held three fingers up to make sure he understood. Hayes nodded his head, writing in his notebook encouraging her to continue. She took a shuddered breath to calm her nerves. "Then a car door opened, and the man was shoved out the door, and the car took off with the door still opened. It was horrible." Both ladies trembled.

"I'm sure it was," he waited until they both let out a cleansing breath.

"What happened next?" Sawyer asked also taking notes in his book.

"El pobre hombre cayó al suelo," Isadora looked at the police officer as if he'd lost his mind.

Sawyer, not understanding, shook his head in confusion.

"He fell to the pavement of course," Helena explained as she would to a small child. Sawyer nodded his head in acquisition, mumbling 'Of course.' Hayes hid his amusement as Helena continued. "The poor dear fell with a thud hitting the street with such force. And the blood… oh, Mary, Madre de Dios….," tears pooled in her eyes. Isadora hugged her fiercely. After another moment she continued. "We didn't know what to do, then we looked up the street and the fire department truck was driving by so we waved and yelled at them. They stopped and tried to help."

"Did either of you touch the victim?" Hayes didn't see blood on their clothing, but it was a routine question. Both women shook their heads negatively.

"Did you see the driver?" Hayes asked.

"He was white with long brown hair. I don't know how he kept it out of his eyes," Helena answered with a shake of her head.

"Can you describe the automobile the man fell out of?"

"Una caja blanco," Isadora said with determination.

"_A white box_?" Hayes's eyebrows shot up in puzzlement.

"We don't know cars very well. It wasn't a car or a truck. Trucks have opened backs, but this didn't and it didn't have a top over the back as some trucks have. It was white, but not a car and not exactly a truck," Helena appeared confused trying to describe the vehicle.

"How many doors?"

"One on each side."

"Did the vehicle have any marks or did you see the license plate?" he wasn't sure how to put a bulletin out on a white _boxy_ vehicle.

Both ladies shook their heads no. "Thank you for your help. This officer is going to make sure you both make it home," he called over a patrol officer giving him directions.

"What do we have," another man wearing a suit similar to the detectives.

"Hey Joe, Bill." The four men nodded greetings to each other. "County fireman/paramedic Roy Desoto has been murdered, apparently by his partner, a… one John Gage," Hayes read from his notes. "We have an idea where to pick up the suspect, can you handle family notification?"

"Sure," Bill the other detective agreed. After a few minutes conversing, they turned to leave.

"Bill remember to…" Hayes started.

"Don't worry we got it covered. Find out if this was a lover's triangle gone badly, and if the wife has culpability in the murder," he answered walking backwards.

Hayes pulled into Station 51's parking lot and both men shared a look. A white range rover sat in the corner, a boxy white not quite a truck vehicle. Yep, their suspect was here, and they'd make this arrest quick.

* * *

**Present time**

"You have to be out of your ever lovin' minds!" A short fireman with a bushy mustache moved between their suspect and the detectives. The squad was parked on the apron and the men stood where the squad normally parked.

Marco took two steps sideways and with his forearm and fist pounding twice on the Captain's door, "CAP!"

The door opened and three firemen came out of the office, "What's going on?"

"Tell Cap what you just said to Johnny!" Chet ordered pointing to Captain Stanley.

Hayes tried to tread lightly. "We're here to arrest John Gage for the murder of Roy Desoto."

Faces of the firemen traveled through shock, bewilderment, and confusion as three placed themselves in front of Gage. Mike Stoker found a spot behind Gage with his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Hayes wasn't sure if Stoker was keeping Gage where he stood, or ready to grab him and run out the back of the station. He'd lost control of the situation and realized his mistake by not bringing backup. The firemen of Station 51 definitely had the upper hand. Were they all involved in the murder of one of their own?

* * *

A/N – All Spanish is courtesy of Google Translate.


	2. Chapter 2

A blond fireman, standing in front of the detectives, mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath before his brain could formulate words. "You're absolutely nuts!"

"Fellas, we're sorry and realize this is a shock to you," Hayes tried to calm the men. "Unfortunately, it's true and we need to take Gage into custody.

The fireman bristled, the white bandage on his forehead emphasized the stark colors of a bruise peeking out. He took a breath glancing backwards at Gage then back to the police officers. "I'm telling you, you're making a mistake." With his right hand pointing to his chest and one finger bouncing off the mid-section of his chest with each word. "I. AM. ROY. DESOTO. AND. I. AM. NOT. DEAD."

Hayes and Sawyer blinked not comprehending the words. Desoto repeated them at a normal tone.

"I have no idea where you got your information, but I'm still alive. And there is no way my best friend would ever commit murder, and definitely not MY murder." Roy informed the visibly confused detectives. A cacophony of voices from the rest of the firemen demanded the police were in the wrong.

A fourth man exited the office, placed his fingers at his lips whistling shrilly. Once he had everyone's attention, "Gentlemen, I believe we have some confusion here."

"Lieutenant Crockett, why are you here?" Hayes asked while looking over at his boss. This was getting worse by the moment. He'd lost control of the situation which his superior witnessed.

"Interviewing victims of a mugging, John Gage and Roy Desoto. Why don't you explain your reasons to be here," the tall detective requested although both junior detectives understood it was an order, not a request.

"We just left a murder scene where a man wearing a county paramedic badge and name tag of R Desoto died. His dying declaration was that his partner shot him. Although he didn't get the name out completely enough was heard to determine the suspect to be John Gage," Hayes explained keeping one eye on his suspect and the other on his boss.

"When did this shooting occur?" Crockett asked with a raised eyebrow.

Moving his left sleeve upward Sawyer verified the time on his watch, "Nearly an hour and half ago, sir."

"As I've worked a couple of cases with Gage and Desoto, I can verify the man in front of you is Roy Desoto. For the past two hours I've been with John Gage. In fact, at the time of your shooting, I was interviewing him in this office. I'd say his alibi is solid." Crockett exchanged glances and recognition of what probably happened dawned simultaneously on Captain Stanley and Chief Miller. "Gentlemen, I believe we need to have a private conversation." He pointed his right index finger out to the front of the fire station. Both Hayes and Sawyer dutifully followed.

Roy stared dumbfounded at the detectives, and then realized in all the voices Johnny didn't speak. The pounding in his head making his thoughts slower than usual, but his reaction times nearly normal as Mike cried out.

"Johnny! Johnny, I got you," the engineer lowered Gage to the ground as the paramedic swayed losing his balance.

"Johnny! What's going on?" Roy's alarmed response rang out as he reached for his partner. Gage was laid out on the ground in a dazed state with sluggish replies.

"When they first accused him of murdering you, he got real pale. Thought he was going to pass out cold that's why I got behind him," Stoker said moving out of Roy's way. He retrieved the oxygen and started a moderate flow with a nasal cannula on the collapsed fireman.

Instantly the drug box and biophone appeared next to Roy thanks to Marco and Chet. Removing the blood pressure cuff, he fixed it to his prone partner's right arm. "Johnny, come on. Tell me what's going on?" Finishing the reading, he shook his head, the numbers low, too low even for Gage. "Did you get hurt on the call earlier?"

Gage's half opened and confused eyes tried to make contact with Roy's eyes. The senior paramedic expertly ran his hands over his partner searching for hidden injuries. His patient hissed in pain as hands crossed the left side of his ribs. Desoto lift the shirt to reveal a deep red, swollen, angry bruise about eight inches in diameter in a jagged pattern.

"How'd that happen?"

"I don't know, Cap," Roy answered. "He didn't say anything while we were at the hospital."

"An ambulance is on the way," Captain Stanley said stepping back out of the way.

Roy hadn't even heard the Code I still alarm being radioed into dispatch. He picked up the biophone, which someone had already plugged in the antenna. "Rampart, squad 51. How do you read?"

"Loud and clear 51, go ahead," a somewhat confused Doctor Joe Early answered. Hadn't he taken Desoto off of duty for the day?

"We have a fireman down, twenty-seven year old, blood pressure 84/56, respiration 18, pulse rapid and weak. Skin is cold and clammy to touch. There's a large hematoma on the left lateral ribcage with significant bruising. We have him on six liters of O2." Roy rubbed the top of his bandage, the tape beginning to itch.

"Start an IV with D5W, maintain oxygen, and repeat vitals in five minutes. Transport as soon as possible," the disembodied voice of the neuro surgeon floated over the radio.

Roy repeated the orders as Chet pulled out an IV kit, opening it, and placing it next to the paramedic. Desoto pumped up the blood pressure cuff talking calmly to Johnny as he expertly started the ordered fluids.

"Roy…shot…," Gage mumbled as he closed his eyes; the events of the morning playing over in his mind.

* * *

At 8:37 AM the squad pulled into the warehouse district. Being Sunday, most of the buildings were empty. As they came to the address an auburn haired man waved them down pointing to a sandy-haired man sitting on the building's steps.

"Hurry! My buddy has asthma and can't catch his breath," the man said standing by the driver's side door, before the paramedics even had time to open the doors.

"All right, it's going to be all right," Gage tried to calm the panicking friend. As he exited the passenger door, he stopped in his tracks. The 'patient' was holding a gun to his chest. "We're just here to help. Don't want any trouble."

"And help is whatcha gonna do. Move over there," the lighter haired man said indicating the driver's side of the squad. Gage complied and saw the other man had Roy at gunpoint as well. They shared a knowing look. They weren't the first team to be robbed.

"What's your names?" the dark haired man asked.

"I'm Roy Desoto and this is my partner, John Gage," Roy stated standing next to the squad door and Johnny in front of the truck.

The sandy haired robber looked back and forth from one paramedic to the other then with a gleeful voice said, "Look at their shirts!"

"Yeah. Yeah. I want the shirts," his partner proclaimed eyes enthralled.

"Our shirts?" Gage blinked in confusion. _There goes my uniform allowance again_.

"Yep. Both of you take your shirts off," the 'patient' ordered waving his gun between the men.

"We really don't want any trouble here," Roy started then found the gun shoved in his face. He slowly began unbuttoning his blue uniform shirt.

"What type of drugs do you carry?" Sandy haired asked, and the paramedics began to wonder if he was the brains of this operation.

"Stuff to treat heart attacks, difficulty breathing, and IV solutions if someone needs fluids," Roy said removing his shirt. The blond man grabbed both shirts.

"We should put 'em on," the darker haired man said with a grin as his accomplice agreed. "Watch 'em." He stuck his gun in his belt as he pulled his t-shirt off and then put Gage's shirt on and buttoned it up. Once finished he held his gun on both men as the other man put on Desoto's shirt. They grinned at each other, obviously enjoying a private joke. Neither paramedic wanted to know what the joke might be. "Now we're paramedics," the man's grin took over his entire face.

_Hardly_, Roy thought, his face remaining unemotional. A shirt doesn't make a man.

"Tell us about the good stuff, not the crappy medicine. How much do you carry?" The lighter hair man demanded.

"Not much," Johnny answered.

"Well why not?"

"In case we get robbed. We're not allowed to carry more than a few doses," Roy said. He wanted this over without anyone being injured.

Both assailants looked disappointed. "We'll take what you have."

"You really don't want to do this," Roy started and stopped as the gun barrel dug into his temple.

"Get down on your knees," the auburn robber commanded, he pushed the gun harder into Roy's temple until he did as directed.

"Gage, you show me the drugs," the brains of the pair said waving his gun at the paramedic.

"They're over there," he indicated the passenger side of the squad.

"Move!"

Gage stepped around the front of the vehicle trying to keep an eye on his partner, but lost the line of view. He opened the compartment to the drug box and pointed to a black box.

"Open it." He did as instructed holding the case so the man could riffle through the contents with one hand pulling out ampoules.

"All these cases and fours all you got?"

"They're holding out on us!" auburn declared. "We should shoot one. How about I blow away this one?"

"We're not holding out. That's all we're allowed to carry! We can open every case and you can look for yourselves," Johnny said hoping to avoid anyone being shot. His training kicking in they should never reveal a supply run to Rampart would get them more morphine. That would invite a hostage situation, and endanger more people.

"Pasadena had six! They're lying," the one wanting to shoot's anger rising. Roy's face meet the gun on the robber's right arm downswing with the sickening sound of flesh being torn.

"Owww…" Roy held the side of his face feeling the warmth of blood oozing out. Stars danced in front of his eyes.

"Roy! You okay?" Johnny desperately wanted run to his partner. Auburn shook his head no telling Roy not to answer his partner.

"That one says trauma. Traumas gotta hurt. Open it up," Gage's mugger demanded pointing to the larger case.

"Okay. Okay." Johnny took the box out, laying it on the ground and opening it up. Under the squad he saw that Roy was sitting back on his legs, which meant he was conscious.

"Bandages!" The thief's disappointment evident; he began throwing items on the ground from the opened boxes. "Where are the other two?"

"The county only allows us to carry four. Every department makes their own rules," Johnny answered getting more nervous from the agitation showing on the man's face. Normally, they carried six vials also, but the previous shift had used two and they needed to do a supply run. This call came in before they got to Rampart. When Brice and Bellingham were robbed a month ago, four vials of morphine were taken then too, and Gage wondered if this pair were the same robbers. No one was hurt in that robbery, so why were the robbers more agitated today?

"I don't believe you!" The man was getting restless walking around peering into the compartments. "What's that one?"

"An OB kit. We use it when a woman is gonna have a baby."

Blond robber's back was to Gage as he ran a hand through his hair. An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. "Sh… cops!" Turning around, he picked up the trauma kit and slammed it into Gage's ribcage making him hit the side of the squad. A shot rang out from the other side of the squad, and both muggers raced toward their waiting white bronco.

Johnny's lungs refused to work as he tried to force air into them, black spots skipping in front of his eyes as he sank to the ground. Roy! His partner was prone on the asphalt unmoving. Diaphragm allowing some air into his chest, he pushed himself off the ground half crawling and half walking to his partner.

"Roy?" The blond paramedic lay face down with blood pooling by his head. A strong heart beat met Johnny's fingers as he slid them over his best friend's carotid, and he let out a sigh of relief. He reached into the squad grasping the handy talkie. "LA, Squad 51. Need police assistance and an ambulance for a Code I. Fireman shot."

"10-4, 51 police and ambulance responding."

Roy turned over slowly, the loudness of the gun going off at close range, and the bullet creasing across his forehead had his ears ringing viciously. He could only hear the sound of his own heartbeat.

"Stay down," Johnny's worried face appeared above him.

* * *

**Current time**

A Mayfair ambulance pulled into the apron of Station 51, and Hal the attendant opened the back doors pulling the stretcher out. Johnny was packaged up, and the engine crew lifted him up into the patient compartment of the ambulance.

"I'll ride with them," Crockett told his detectives and received an approval nod from Captain Stanley. The situation was worse than he let on, but Crockett had to see this out. When this was over four detectives would be lucky to have their jobs. He kept his face neutral climbing into the ambulance.

Captain Stanley stood in front of the two remaining detectives with arms crossed. "I take it that no one under my command is going to be arrested today?"

Detective Hayes sheepishly shook his head no.

"I'm the Battalion Chief responsible for these men, and I want a detailed accounting of what occurred. Start explaining," Chief Miller ordered crossing his arms to match his subordinate's stance.

* * *

Joanne had four whole hours to herself, the kids were with friends who lived two streets over. Once a month each mother traded kid watching duty, to have a few hours to themselves. She decided to take a long hot bubble bath heading toward the bath when her doorbell rang.

"Hello," she said opening the front door.

"Mrs. Roy Desoto? Joanne Desoto?" She nodded her head at the men in suits. "I'm Detective Joe Trembly and this is my partner Officer Bill Vietti. May we come in?"

She stepped back to allow the policemen into the house, with her heart in her throat. If Roy had been hurt, the fire department would have come for her, she kept repeating to herself. She led them to the living room and everyone sat down. "How can I help you?"

"Mrs. Desoto, I've very sorry to have to tell you, but your husband, Roy Desoto was murdered earlier today," Detective Trembly informed the shocked housewife.

Tears streaming down her face, "How?"

"John Gage shot him."

Her world came crashing down.


	3. Chapter 3

"What happened back there?" Desoto demanded anger fighting for dominance over concern for his best friend.

"It appears one of the men who mugged you shot and killed his partner, the one wearing your shirt. The man said his name was Roy Desoto and another paramedic identified him as you. Rarely does a dying man give a false name. The Fire Department verified you'd worked today, but had been sent home. It was an honest mistake. With that type of evidence most detectives would go with their guts. I've sent them to make a proper identification, and get everything straight." Crockett answered. He wasn't going to tell him about Joanne possibly being notified of his death, if the officers were stopped in time, then no harm. If not, he'd given orders to deal with the aftermath. "How's Gage?"

Roy shook his head in disgust, then turned back to his partner to collect a new set of vitals. "Better." He called the new information into Rampart.

"Did you know he'd been injured?" Crockett asked. Desoto was smart, and if his attention wasn't diverted, he'd start asking questions the Lieutenant wasn't prepared to answer.

* * *

**Several hours ago**

Johnny's face was above him with his mouth moving, but Roy couldn't hear anything. Once in Vietnam, he'd been too close to a grenade explosion; thirty-six hours later his hearing returned. His right hand went to rub his forehead, but Johnny intercepted the hand and forced it back down. "Can't hear. Ears ringing," Roy said at what he hoped was close to a normal tone. His partner must have understood because he nodded his head. "I'm okay otherwise." He attempted to sit up, only to have both of his shoulders firmly held down with Johnny shaking his head no.

"Rampart, Squad 51," the phone handle of the Biophone held between his shoulder and ear as he scribbled notes in his pad.

"Go ahead, 51," Doctor Early's voice came across the radio.

"Have a male, thirty one years of age, shot at close range. The bullet creased the forehead, the patient is unable to hear due to ringing in the ears. Bleeding under control. Blood pressure is 130/78, pulse 88, respirations 22. Prior to being shot the victim was pistol whipped to the same side of the head," Gage reported keeping an eye on his partner. Ever the professional, he strived to keep the emotion out of his voice.

"Any loss of consciousness?"

"Possibly less than two minutes, but can't confirm at this time."

"Continue to monitor vitals and transport as soon as possible," Early ordered. He'd listened to the call for an ambulance and police on the scanner, the stress in Gage's voice suggested that the patient was his partner.

Gage kept watch in case the dynamic duo returned, glad when two police cars rolled into the lot. Vince stepped out of his vehicle first, seeing the relief wash over his friend. Why were they in white t-shirts and not uniform shirts?

"John, what happened?" The paramedic relayed the details of the holdup, giving a description of the criminals and get-away truck. Vince placed an all-points bulletin out before returning and kneeling next to John and Roy. "How's he doing?"

"Better, I'm beginning to hear," Roy said lifting his head shaking it slightly.

His statement met with a full Gage grin, "Good. Ambulance will be here in a couple of minutes."

"I don't need an ambulance. Why don't we take the squad?" Roy groused pushing up on his elbows.

"You were shot in the head, you're going by ambulance," Johnny's tone left no room for argument. Roy looked over at Vince for help with pleading eyes.

"I'm with your partner on this one. Besides, crime scene will need to go over the squad to lift finger prints from the suspects. It's going to be tied up for a few hours," the police officer said.

Roy knew this was a no-win situation and laid his head back down with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes, the pounding behind them worse than he'd felt since nearly being blown up in Nam.

"Did you lose consciousness at all?"

"No, stunned but never blacked out," Roy said gratefully; if he'd lost consciousness that would mean an automatic overnight stay in Hotel Rampart.

As Johnny updated the hospital, with a new set of vitals and consciousness state an ambulance pulled up close to the squad. The attendants placed Roy on the stretcher and covered him with the tan blanket. Johnny began closing up the drug box.

"John, you said one of the suspects rifled the box, we're going to need that as evidence and dust it for prints," Vince said putting a hand on the paramedics shoulder to stop him.

"After I get Roy to the hospital. He's stable now, but if I need something this is the only supply we have. None of the other medications were damaged, so they're still okay to use until we get replacements," John countered continuing to close the box. "I promise no one else will touch the box, but it's going with me."

"Tell you what, I'll ride in with you to keep the chain of custody intact. Once we reach the hospital, I'll take the box," Vince offered understanding the dilemma.

"All right, that works," John gave him a nod and climbed into the ambulance with the policeman on his heels.

* * *

**Current time**

"Roy."

"Yeah, I'm right here partner," Roy moved into John's line of sight. "How are you feeling?"

"What happened?" Johnny was looking around the ambulance when his eyes landed on the detective.

"You passed out on us. You're going to be fine." Roy answered.

"Why would anyone think I could hurt my partner?" he directed his question to the police officer.

"Case of mistaken identity. I'm sorry about that," Crockett said sincerity clear in his voice. "Once we identify the deceased, the other one won't take long to apprehend. We have your badge secured, Roy."

"Yeah, but it'll be tied up for how long with the court proceedings?" Roy asked grateful that at least it was found. Crockett shrugged his shoulders understanding the predicament. A fire department badge was a sacred as a police badge. To have one stolen invited all types of trouble.

Roy turned back to his patient. "How are you doing?"

Johnny placed his left arm over his eyes, "Tired." The ambulance made the turn into the hospital and backed into an open space.

"We're here, and you can rest soon," Roy moved to allow the attendants to pull the gurney out, and then walked alongside his best friend to treatment room two. The detective parted their company in search for a phone to call his boss. While Johnny was moved to the exam table, Roy hung the IV on the pole.

"How are you feeling?" Doctor Early asked taking his penlight out and shining it in Gage's eyes checking pupil reaction. Both eyes responded normally.

"Fine. Can I go now?" Johnny answered with a half grin.

Early snorted. "How about we check you out first? Did you hit your head?" Johnny asking to leave was a good sign, and the doctor hid his amusement at the request.

"No," he squinted trying to wash away the effects of the penlight.

"Blood pressure is 100/70, pulse 68, and respirations 16," Dixie said leaving the cuff on her patient's arm for easy rechecking.

Early nodded his head then lifted Gage's shirt. "How did this happen?" He gently palpated the bruised area.

"Guy got a lucky shot in with the trauma box, and I ended up pinned between it and the squad. I didn't blackout at all," Johnny answered making a face when the doctor touched a particularly painful place.

"You should have told us," Roy said still standing at the head of the table.

"Didn't think it was that bad," John answered sheepishly. Truthfully, he'd forgotten about the injury being so concerned about Roy. They were back at the station before the pain made itself known again, all he wanted to do was go home and rest. Roy harrumphed giving his partner a glare.

"We need x-rays. Thought I sent you home, Roy," Early raised an eyebrow at the senior paramedic.

"The police wanted statements first. We were finishing when a couple more detectives showed up at the station to arrest Johnny for my murder," Roy said with disgust.

Both Dixie and Early's eyes widened in surprise. "Your murder?" Dixie gasped.

"Yeah, seems the partners who robbed us turned on each other and the one wearing Roy's shirt was killed. You know Roy, they did kinda resemble us. Same body builds and hair color," Johnny said looking at his friend.

"That's where the resemblance ended. The idea someone thought you'd shoot me," Roy shook his head, the anger at the situation hadn't dissolved yet. It would take him some time to work this out, and he would have his turn chewing out the two bumbling detectives.

"Never. Besides I hate guns!" Johnny said a little too forcefully for his ribs as he moved a hand to protect the bruised area.

"That's the silliest thing ever," Dixie declared. "Everyone knows you'd never hurt Roy. Or him you."

The x-ray technician entered the room, Early gave orders for chest films, and the rest of the medical staff left the room making their way to the nurses' station. As they arrived, the base station warning light came on with squad 99 calling in with a case, Early immediately went into the room to take the call. Dixie gave Roy a look to ensure he'd be all right. She wanted to know more of what happened but duty called. Roy nodded his head in understanding. He wasn't sure he could explain any more than what had been already said. The whole day made little sense, and his head was pounding. He wanted to rest, see his sweet wife, take the medicine prescribed, and sleep for a week. Would the nightmare of today ever end? His adrenaline rush when Johnny succumbed to shock was wearing off, and he didn't know if there was any reserves left in him. He leaned back allowing the wall to hold him up.

Two men wearing suits flanking a woman with light brown hair entered through the main emergency room entrance. She stopped a few feet inside watching the man who had his back against the wall. A bandage covered his forehead, and his eyes closed, obviously tired. She took several steps closer, her voice shaky, "Roy."

Roy opened his eyes to see his wife standing in front of him. "Joanne?"

Her bottom lip quivered as she fought to retain her composure. She went to him wrapping her arms around his body as his arms came around her shoulders pulling her to him protectively.

"Honey," he felt her shoulders shake and tightened his hold on the only woman he'd ever loved.

"They…they…said you died," she said into his shoulder as her tears began to flow. Holding on to him tightly she cried, her entire body trembling.

"I'm all right. Shhhhh….it's all right. Everything's okay. I'm fine," he held her close as she wept whispering into her ear how much he loved her.

Her composure regained, she looked up at his face, never letting her grip on him to lessen. "They said Johnny murdered you," Joanne's face still looked haunted and needed reassurance.

"I'm so sorry Jo," he leaned in and kissed her gently. "Johnny didn't hurt me at all."

"What happened?" Embracing him in her arms, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath, his blue eyes staring back at her was comforting. The fear she lived with each day he went to work, that he might never come home again presented its ugly self, full force with the proclamation from the police. Her mind couldn't comprehend how such a thing could happen. Every day when he left for work, she'd give him a kiss and hug, then as she watched him drive away, say a prayer for him to come home to her.

"It's a long story. Let's sit down," he kept an arm around his wife leading her to the doctor's lounge. She entered first, and Roy looked back down the hallway glaring at the three detectives standing near the nurses' station. How dare the police screw up so badly that they upset Joanne. It was bad enough attempting to arrest John, but to put his wife through her worst nightmare was unforgivable. He closed the door behind him and joined Joanne on the couch taking her into his arms. When the robbery went bad, he momentarily thought he'd never see his wife again, and needed this time with her as much as she needed to be with him.

* * *

"I can't believe Gage killed Desoto. When we rode with them a couple of months ago, I never got the impression there was bad blood," George* said as he closed the door to the KMMX Channel 8 News station wagon. He opened the back door pulling his camera bag off the seat.

"You and me both. But a lot can happen over a few weeks. Canton has the lead on the story, but maybe we can still get part of the opening news credits with interviews from the nurses and doctors in the emergency room that worked with Desoto," Paula Hughes gave her mirror one last check. One way or another, she would be in on the hottest story in weeks, 'Murder at the Fire Department'.

* * *

* Episode On Camera


	4. Chapter 4

"Yes, sir, I understand. Yes, sir. Believe me they will live to regret their decisions," Crockett said standing straight and stiffed back over the phone to the Chief of Detectives. He could only imagine the original conversation he was getting reamed out about second hand.

* * *

**Earlier**

"Sir, Chief Houts from the Fire Department is on the line and he says it's urgent," the Police Chief's secretary informed him.

"Richard, what can I do for you?" Marvin Engelmann* asked picking up the headset to speak with his longtime friend. Rarely did an emergency call come in from his counterpart at the Fire Department.

"You can tell me what type of bone-headed detective unit you're running. Do you know the trouble and chaos they've tossed into my department like a live hand grenade?" Houts angry voice demanded.

"Whoa, why don't you start from the beginning and catch me up?" Engelmann hit the buzzer on his desk summoning Denise, his secretary, handing her a hand scratched note.

Denise read the note, saw the seriousness in her boss's eyes, and headed out the door. Making the steps across the hallway to the conference room where the assistant chiefs were meeting, she knocked on the door, entered, and walked directly to the head detective. "Sir, you've been summoned," the pretty secretary handed him the note. _Get the Chief of Detectives in here NOW! _The detective raised an eyebrow at her. "All I know is the fire department is involved."

Detective Robert Gretchner entered his boss's office, and saw Engelmann wave him to the desk. "Richard, I have Bob in here now, and I'm going to put you on speaker phone. Will you explain to him what we've been discussing?"

Houts somewhat more calm described the robbery of the paramedic team. He was known to be calm in emergency situations. However, when it came to protecting the men under his command he held nothing back. The police hadn't made a simple mistake, but a colossal blunder, and he went in with a pair of two-and-a-half lines fully charged. "While your detective was interviewing Desoto and Gage at the station, two more of your men showed up to arrest Gage for murdering Desoto. Had it stopped there, some of the damage might have been contained. They'd also notified the department of Desoto's demise and Chaplain Services were dispatched to the grieving widow. Desoto is very much alive. We've tried to reach Mrs. Desoto, but there is no answer on the phone or the residence. I want to know how such a sizeable screw-up happened in identifying the victim."

Engelmann scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "What do you need from us to correct the issues in your department?"

"Identify the true victim and catch the murderer. Plus a formal apology to this department and especially to Gage and Desoto," Houts ordered. "We have ensured that the appropriate divisions have been informed Desoto and Gage are both alive and on the injured list."

"We will make this a top priority," Engelmann promised. He raised an eyebrow at Gretchner who nodded his head. This would have his full attention.

"If Desoto's wife has been informed of his death, that will only escalate the issue," Houts said.

Engelmann closed his eyes taking a deep breath understanding the concern. If the wife of one of his officers had been mistakenly informed of her husband's death, he'd feel the same way. "Understood. I'll get back to you with an update." He hung up the phone then pointing at his subordinate. "Fix this."

"Yes, sir," Gretchner responded.

"And send someone physically to the morgue to correct the name on the deceased," Engelmann said.

"I'll take care of it, and get back to you soon," Gretchner stood taking his leave.

* * *

**Current time**

"Yes, sir, Mrs. Desoto is with her husband now. I will make an apology to all the involved parties." He turned from the nurses' station phone to see the news media arriving. "Sir, has the media gotten wind of the story? A camera crew just entered the emergency room. Yes, sir, I will handle them." Crockett let out a deep breath. Yep, he'd be tearing two detectives a new way to sit down. He scanned the updates received from his boss.

"You can't bring that camera in here," Dixie McCall said standing in the hallway, hands on her hips.

"We want to interview your staff about the murder of Paramedic Roy Desoto," Paula Hughes said trying to use the little charisma that had been established when she rode with Desoto and Gage a few weeks prior.

Before Dixie could explode, Crockett intervened. "I believe you have some faulty information."

Paula jumped on the opportunity presenting itself. "Detective Crockett, what can you tell us about the murder?"

"For starters, Fireman/Paramedic Roy Desoto is very much alive." He waited for that to sink into the shocked news reporter. The camera man never flinched as he kept the police officer centered in the view finder. "As this is an ongoing investigation not all the facts are available at the moment. However, Firemen John Gage and Roy Desoto were mugged this morning. Both are alive and cooperating with the investigation. They are not available for comment nor will they be for quite some time." He stopped speaking but moving slowly forward to force the pair towards the exit.

"They're both alive?" Paula sounded somewhere between relieved and confused. George had a huge grin on his face.

"Yes. This morning's robbery goes along with a string of similar incidents happening over the past few months. The police are working with the LA City and LA County Fire Departments coordinating the efforts to stop further instances," he'd pushed them back several steps when the perfect opportunity presented itself. His face remained neutral, "Since Gage and Desoto are unavailable; perhaps you might consider speaking with another pair of paramedics who were robbed at gun point earlier in the month."

"Who would that be?" Paula leapt at the break.

"Firemen Craig Brice and Bob Bellingham were victims previously. I'm sure if you explained to them what you're looking for, the County Fire Department might allow the interview. You'd receive accurate and precise information from the pair," Crockett indicated out the door where a County squad sat with a paramedic counting something in the black drug box. The redirection worked like a charm as the feisty reporter followed by George made their exit. Yep, Mr. Perfect Paramedic, Craig Brice, would only do the interview if it was allowed in the rule book. Then, he'd give a textbook, technically accurate accounting that would bore the viewers to sleep. Hopefully, Gage would appreciate the effort and amusement directed at his nemesis. Crockett only hoped something more newsworthy came up tomorrow for Hughes to sink her teeth into, and in LA it usually did.

* * *

An hour and half later, Doctor Early entered the doctor's lounge, where everyone had left Roy and Joanne alone to reconnect.

"How's Johnny?"

"He'll be fine. Nothing's broken only severe bruising. We're keeping him overnight for observation," Early said watching the couple in front of him cling to each other.

"Can I see him?" Roy asked, Joanne squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes. "Can we see him?"

"Sure, he's still in two. They'll be moving him to a room shortly. Afterwards, I want you to go home and rest," Early ordered.

"I'll make sure he does," Joanne said determinedly. Roy gave a small smile shrugging his shoulders. Nothing sounded better than being with his family.

"Quite sure you'll be in good hands," Early grinned.

Mr. and Mrs. Desoto entered treatment room two, the lights dimmed. Johnny lay back on the bed, a blanket draped over him, and his left arm over his eyes. He moved his arm looking at his visitors.

"Joanne, what are you doing here?"

"Had to check on my two favorite men. Understand you had some excitement today," she said placing a hand on his arm.

"Yeah, you could say that," his head bopped up and down. He took in her red, puffy eyes and tilted his head at his partner. Roy shook his head telling him they'd talk later.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Early's being overly protective keeping me. I'm fine," Johnny answered. "How are you?"

"Better now that I've seen both of you," she said with a slight smile. Taking a breath, she lowered her head before looking him in the eyes. "What the police said you did. I never believed them."

"I'd never do anything to harm either of you," Johnny started, but Joanne put a finger on his lips to quiet him. Her eyes expressed her belief in him. Johnny gave her one of his grins.

"Knock. Knock," Crockett said as he entered the room. "Glad you're all here, I have some information." He walked over to the exam table standing near the end where he could see all three parties involved, understanding how royally his men screwed up today. He'd finished an in person debriefing with his boss minutes prior to this update. "First I want to offer an apology on behalf of the department for the misinformation and actions today. Especially to you, Mrs. Desoto. And you too, John."

"Thank you," Joanne said holding the hands of her husband and his best friend, anger apparent on her face. John nodded his head in a non-committal way.

"The other suspect has been taken into custody. A few things you might find noteworthy. The first suspect, who died earlier today, was Rory de Sota from Pasadena age thirty-one, his wife Joayn de Sota. Second suspect is Jonathon Gager, twenty-seven, from LA. The reason they wanted your shirts were because of the similarities in the names. They met in prison as petty thieves. Once out became partners about five years ago in a company which removes old fire-suppression equipment in office buildings when they did real work. Both of your badges were recovered and will be returned to you when possible," Crockett explained, showing them mugshots of both men for verification they were the attackers.

"How?" Joanne asked.

"Excuse me?"

"How was the man identified?" She thought she'd explode if they looked at his wallet and found his driver's license.

Crockett understood. "He wasn't carry any identification on him. Had a set of house keys and that's all. A police officer was sent to the morgue to ensure," he stopped and took a deep breath ready for their reactions. "To ensure Roy's name was removed from any paperwork."

Roy shook his head. "Incredible." Johnny closed his eyes running a hand over his face. Joanne waited for her answer.

"The officer who went to correct the mistake, recognized the deceased. He'd arrested him several times on minor charges, but one stood out to him. About two years ago, a drunk Rory de Sota made a series of threats which affected the officer. Some calls you don't forget," Crockett stopped. Gage and Desoto looked at each other and he could see in their eyes that they understood. "Fingerprints** were taken and, de Sota's prints on file were pulled for a confirmed match. We weren't going by facial recognition only after…."

"I can see why they thought it was Roy and I. Someone with three gunshots in his chest wouldn't be able to speak properly. Rory de Sota could sound like Roy Desoto plus wearing the nametag. Huh…interesting," Johnny said looking thoughtful. Joanne gritted her teeth.

"What do you find so interesting?" Roy asked still seething, unwilling to accept the explanation yet.

"They were almost mirror images of us," Johnny looked thoughtful.

"You mean doppelgangers. After what my wife was put through," Roy said with a sharpness in his tone.

"Not cool. No one is allowed to upset Joanne," Gage deadpanned the detective; his fierce protectiveness of the Desoto family showing.

"I do apologize for that. When I found out they'd already made the notification, I had them bring Joanne here. Thought it would be the best thing all around," Crockett said. He knew once Gage was feeling better there would be a serious conversation over the matter. The glassiness of the fireman's eyes indicated he'd been medicated.

"Thank you. It was exactly the right thing to do," Joanne squeezed Roy's hand.

"Yes, thank you," Roy said nodding his head. He gave a Crockett a look that said he wasn't finished with the police officer yet. While his wife was around he'd play it cool, but there was still a lot of explaining to be done. The detective acknowledged his look with a nod of his head. He'd been surprised if the family man responded any other way.

"How was he apprehended?" Joanne asked glad that the man wasn't out there causing anarchy anymore.

"When notification was made to de Sota's wife, his partner was there. Seems a lover's triangle had formed," Crockett said. Joanne stiffened at his words, and Roy moved his hand to rub soothing circles on her back. "Although the full story isn't known yet, that might be the reason for the shooting."

"That's something else that would never happen. I love Joanne like a sister, but I'd never interfere with their marriage," Johnny said definitively.

"Never been a concern, junior," Roy said with a corner of his mouth slightly upturned.

"There are details we still need to cover, but it's been a long day and I think you all need some rest. We'll finish your statements later. Roy and Joanne, a car will take you home when you're ready. John, I hope you're out of here fast. I know how bad a stay can be," Crockett said as he excused himself from the room. He had a lot of work to do and would personally ensure the LA City Fire Station 38 records contained the correct victim's name on their paperwork.

"I'm glad it's over," Roy said putting an arm around his wife. She reached up and kissed him.

"Me too. Wish I could go home. Roy gets shot in the head, and he goes home. I get a little bruise and I have to stay," Johnny pouted. Roy rolled his eyes at the statement, _don't forget about the shock partner!_

"How about I make you brownies tomorrow?" Joanne asked the man feeling sorry for himself.

"Brownies! Yeah, that'd be great," the pouting turned into a full grin. Joanne laughed pleased to see her suggestion worked. Her anger boiling underneath, she wanted a lot of questions answered, but didn't think this the place or time to have that discussion with the policeman. Both of her favorite men were injured and needed rest. And she wanted to get her husband home and start recovering from this day.

After moment of silence, Johnny scrunched up his nose, and with a soured look let out a deep sigh akin to a groan.

"Whatcha thinking?" Roy asked his left eyebrow raised.

"Rumor mill. The department's grapevine runs faster than a woman's beauty parlor," he lowered his head. "You and I missing a shift will make matters worse."

"Don't worry about it. People will figure it out, and if they don't. We can always say I killed you instead," Roy grinned. He needed the release of humour.

"Oh man, don't even joke about something like that!" Johnny gave him a glare. Roy's shoulders were shaking as he tried to hold in a laugh. "You're not concerned are ya?"

"Nope. By the time we're back at work, Chet will have the story morphed into something different. He's the one we need to be concerned about. The practical jokes after this will be classic. I expect handcuffs in every possible variation will appear at the station," Roy quit trying to restrain his laughter.

"Ugghhh...yep, this will fuel him for a month or more." A smirk formed then he too began laughing as much as his bruised ribcage would allow.

Dixie and two orderlies came into the room with a stretcher, "Johnny's room is ready."

"That's our cue, we're going home. I'll see you in the morning, partner," Roy patted Johnny on the shoulder. He and Joanne walked to the open door stopping in the archway. "Dix, take good care of him."

"We will, I promise," she smiled back at him.

"Don't forget to bring the brownies!"

"Night junior."

"Night pally."

The End

* * *

*Engelmann is a created character.

** Before computers fingerprints were stored on cards and cataloged. To sort through such prints without a name could take a significant period of time.


End file.
